


Deeper

by Disembowel-me (Sarunkoku)



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: M/M, Strade getting his comeuppance is my kink, Tentacles, all the way through, both ends, implied anyway, slimy ichor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 18:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarunkoku/pseuds/Disembowel-me
Summary: Rire has his way with StradeInspired by Darqx's lovely image: https://darqx.tumblr.com/post/178669716020/strade-roast





	Deeper

Strade felt them.

Squirming and wet and sickenly firm, yet soft against his insides. Working their way up his colon. Down his esophagus.

Deeper.

And _deeper_.

The pain was like nothing else he had ever experienced; it was dull but only because it was so far inside, so far inside where the specific sensations end and all you can feel is a vague ache in the mushy cavity of mucous membranes and organ tissue and all sorts of fluids that your brain lumps together into a singular amalgamation. It was going against all of nature, going up inside the long fleshy tube that was only meant for things to go down, forcing the muscles that Strade never knew he had to accommodate something they were never meant to.

So deep and wrong and utterly invasive.

There was an awful film of bile, drool, and Rire’s seed and ichor slowly coating Strade’s chin. The tentacle in his mouth had long passed the threshold that anything aside from masticated food should pass. He didn’t know how it fit. He didn’t know how he was still breathing.

Rire ran a finger lightly along the bulge in Strade’s throat, then pressed his palm against it and felt the tentacle pulse as it pushed on. A tear ran down Strade’s face. A little ichor was leaking from his nose. It was all he could smell. It was all he could taste. If he hadn’t known better, he could’ve sworn it was plugging his sinuses and swimming in his eyes and filling his lungs.

Then tentacles expanded just enough as they snaked up inside of him and suddenly he was horribly, vividly aware of every place of contact; the nauseating thickness making his intestines taut.

He felt it surge up and through the curve of his coiled small intestine. He was now hyper-aware of the shape of his own organs thanks to the horrid, agonizing invasion. His vision blurred with fresh new tears that freely rolled down his cum-stained cheeks.

And then, Strade _saw_ them.

A ripple under the skin in sync with the surging inside him. He told himself it was just his blurry vision playing tricks on him.

But then he saw another.

And then the shape of the tentacle became clear, a slightly raised tube crawling along under the fat in his stomach, and Strade wanted to throw up.

A realization dawned on him and his body turned cold as he stared down in horror. They were still too far down. Still near his hips. Still in his lower abdomen.

“Did you know-,” Rire’s voice was cool and smooth, “-the adult human digestive tract is thirty feet long?”

Strade’s chest exploded with pain from an attempted sob, but with the tentacle so far inside, it only resulted in an awkward convulsion. Rire leaned in closer. The tentacles pushed deeper.

“We still have twenty-eight feet to go~”


End file.
